The Tanning of America Read Free Page B

those illogical zip codes in places like Orem, Utah, and Kennebunkport, Maine; in rural outposts and on Ivy League campuses; in suburbs and inner cities alike.
    How was this possible? In short: It was the phenomenon that’s at the center of this book, The Tanning of America . The cultural explosion occurring mainly under the radar made me wonder if there was some kind of millennial mind meld happening. Were younger generations disproving the conventional wisdom that was running corporate America and Madison Avenue? To unravel those questions and others, I decided to leave the music business at the top of my game and go in search of answers in a radically different direction—in the advertising world. As an outsider, this meant I would have to start at the bottom of the ladder in an industry that was driven by baby boomers, many stuck in mind-sets from yesteryear, none eager to give up the keys to the car. But there was also a new developing arena within the ad business, what has been called branded or entertainment marketing, that provided an opportunity for me to have a hand in its evolution. That’s when the story of “My Adidas” and Run-DMC began to resonate.
    Clearly, cultural tremors of the magnitude that were being generated in hip-hop’s early glory days had caused changes in commerce—currents that had spread over time and were starting to cause seismic shifts in consciousness. So the convergence back in July 1986 wasn’t a fluke or chance meeting. It was a mirror for what was happening on a broader scale in urban America and beyond, revealing how rap was a litmus test for where youth culture was going, and how a savvy marketer from Europe picked up on the cues—doing so in ways that much of Madison Avenue and corporate America hadn’t yet figured out. (And many still haven’t.)
    That was the kind of mirror I wanted to hold up. Which, I should add, still didn’t convince my father that I had a real job. Try telling your parents that you make your living by translating cultural cues to Fortune 500 companies and helping them communicate more effectively with consumers. After partnering with advertising veteran Peter Arnell for a couple of years before our company was sold, I went on to launch my own agency—with the collaboration of some of the most brilliant individuals I’ve ever met. Our team comes from not only a mix of business worlds (including marketing, music, and media) but also a multi-generational, multiethnic mix of backgrounds: a literal representation of global tanning.
    From the start, I recognized that the countercultural nature of hip-hop didn’t lend itself to being packaged or regimented in the way that advertising campaigns run by corporate America move. But I also knew that there was a natural meeting place for the two. Uncommon bedfellows? No question. But they also each have something the other needs. My role was to be the conduit—the bridge. And so that was the thinking behind the name, Translation, that I chose for my company and to describe what we do.
    As a kind of pop culture anthropologist, what I also do is help clients find relevant ways to reinvigorate their brand—whether, as a few examples, it’s McDonald’s, Target, Estée Lauder, Hewlett-Packard, Wrigley, Tommy Hilfiger, Verizon, State Farm, Samsung, a shoe company or two, or a host of public and philanthropic organizations. In a time of economic upheaval the likes of which we’ve been living through in recent years, marketers’ connecting meaningfully to the new young consumer—the single most powerful purchasing force ever measured, who is currently driving the global marketplace—is a life-and-death brand survival act. This too has to do with translating. No, not in sending messages to be crammed down the throats of consumers, but in extending an invitation, communicating it with nuance and cool.
    Others have pointed out, and I agree,